just a kerfuffle of screwed up genes.
I think it’s rather silly to say, or rather to admit, that Tyler and I would spend countless times, uselessly arguing over who Matheson was more genetically similar to. Yes, it is true, Matheson is 50/50, and biologically speaking, I did not reproduce by giving him 70% of his genetic composition while Tyler only contributed 30% because, alas, that is, to a degree of fault, impossible.
Granted, we didn’t FIGHT over it, we would just bicker back and forth with, “He got that from me, and that.. and that…and that…well look now, he’s so much more like me than like you!”
No, it shouldn’t have been a competition, and I can’t even say why we made it one. Maybe it was something we did to pass the time, or maybe it was something we both did to make each other consciously aware of Matheson’s parentage. Regardless of the reason why, we did it and I think it was silly and hence the following conclusions have been drawn and will be stated.
Every parent looks at each of their children and sees a little bit of themselves and a little bit of the other parent.
Every parent can admit - even if they don’t want to - that there are traits and significant features that their child or children individually inherited from them, while having other traits and features from the other parent.
Every parent will look at their child and see the other parent. Whether to other it is obvious or not, it is there.
Suddenly, every parent draws these strange conclusions like: you are so much like your mother, you are so much like your father, you got that from your dad, you got that from your mom, you do that just like he did, or she did, you are your father’s daughter, or you are a mama’s boy, or the typical “like father like son” and “like mother like daughter”.
But whatever the case is, as a parent, it takes a while for even us to realize that sometimes our children are just as is, they are just them.
A part of what makes them unique to their own is the fact that they are a composition of things that belong to their mother and their father. And it makes them them. It doesn’t make them just like mama, it doesn’t make them just like daddy. It makes them THEM.
Yesterday night, while playing and reading with Matheson, I thought, how funny it is, and how lucky I am, that Matheson loves learning and reading as much as I do, if not even more. I was so grateful reading with him, knowing that he didn’t inherit his father’s distaste for reading.
Then I thought, what if he did? What if I raised him the same way, nothing changed, EXCEPT, he didn’t like reading. He simply wouldn’t spend any time with me reading, no matter what the circumstance.
Would that mean he were more like daddy and less like mommy?
No, that would just mean my son would be Matheson, Matheson who doesn’t love reading.
I thought to myself, how would Matheson ever find his own identity if he was always being compared to mommy or to daddy?
A lot of the reason why Tyler and I got along so well when we were together was because we really loved each other for who we were. Essentially, I loved Tyler for who he was AND who he wasn’t. I took him as he was, imperfections, flaws, and all. I accepted it and I loved it, and that was fact.
The same applies with Matheson, though to some degree more extensive. I love Matheson for everything he is. Whether he is more like me and less like his dad, or more like his dad and much less like me, it really doesn’t matter where his traits came from or why he inherited certain things from either of us, while not inheriting the other more desirable traits from us.
Right now it’s just the fact that everyday, Matheson develops a bit more and more of his personality and his character. All the tiny parts that create his identity are starting to become more apparent and whomever he inherited them from doesn’t matter, it’s just the fact that I appreciate he has them, and I love him for everything he’s becoming.
Personally, despite Tyler and I being on relatively awful terms with each other right now, I can’t deny that I am actually happy, yes HAPPY—not adequately satisfied or mildly contented—I mean genuinely happy that he’s the father of my son. That is to say, I am happy that the first person I learned to love for all his imperfections gave me the son that I could love for everything he’s worth.
It’s easy for any parent, young or old, to say they love their child unconditionally; it is easy for them to do so too because realistically speaking, you can’t hate the gift of a child, unless of course you are seriously twisted and that in itself is a whole other topic of discussion. Regardless, a parent loves their child and never needs a reason why. It’s just rewarding for any parent to know that they love their child’s imperfections because that’s when they really truly feel like a parent.
Embracing all the good things you see in your children is wonderful, but I find, that after observing many other parents, it’s the act of recognizing, appreciating and even loving a child with imperfections that most parents have the trouble committing to because they don’t want to admit their child is anything BUT perfect.
And suddenly, when the unwanted imperfections start to surface, a parent will often say “oh he/she got that from his/her mother/father,” or sometimes say that they got it from the “mother-in-law” or “father-in-law”. But then that is where they are wrong. You cannot put a BLAME on the inheritance of “faulty” genes. You cannot say it is anyone’s fault for why your child is not good at reading, or has trouble speaking, or hasn’t learned to walk by the age of 1 and a half. You cannot say it’s anyone’s fault that your child hates vegetables, despite your passion for them, because that’s just his or her taste, that’s just a part of him or her that makes up their identity, the unique and beautiful identity that makes them who they are and regardless of how they became that way, it’s up to the parents to love their children for it.
With that said, Matheson was covering his eyes during—what he considers—the scary parts of “Care Bears”. Call him whatever you will, but it was funny to me because I know if Tyler had witnessed it for himself, he would definitely say that Matheson got it from me because I always cover my eyes during the scary parts of movies. Then I thought, whether it reminded him of me or not, whether he thought it was silly or stupid or pointless, Tyler would have no choice, but to love Matheson for that. The same way I love Matheson’s fat and ugly feet. The same way I love Matheson’s for his very strange affinity for running around the house as fast as he possibly can once he gets his diaper off. The same way I love Matheson’s OBSESSION for skateboarding. The same way I love how Matheson somehow goes absolutely bonkers for potatoes even though it’s not actually a regular part of the Asiatic diet he’s exposed to at home.
That’s just part of being a parent, embracing BOTH the good and the bad things that they’re children inherit, loving them for it, and recognizing their identity because of it.
One thing I can never take away is the certainty that if it weren’t for Tyler, I wouldn’t have Matheson. I cannot blame Tyler for the imperfections my son inherits from him because I love them both for having them. If there’s one thing that I have done since the day I saw Matheson’s form via ultrasound, it’s the expression of appreciation and gratefulness I have for Tyler for giving me my son. And to this day, no matter what, even if I were never to see his face or hear his voice for the rest of my life, I will always thank Tyler for Matheson.
Never Will I Forget.
